Fic: The Blind Date (7b/7)
Sep. 22nd, 2004 12:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merelynTitle: The Blind Date
Author: Merelyn25 (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
merelyn)
Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters, universe, etc. in this story don't belong to me. They belong to JKR and Warner Bros. I'm just borrowing. :) No copyright infringement is intended, and I'm makin' no money off this.
Notes: Still not OoTP-compatible. Here's Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, and Chapter 7a.
Percy stood in the corridor outside the locker room waiting for Oliver after the game, feeling about as green as he must have looked. (It turned out that unfortunately he wasn't cowardly enough to bolt and find a way to avoid Oliver for the rest of his life.) Just get it over with, he thought. Just tell him and sort this whole mess out.
Of course, Oliver was probably going to be hurt or embarrassed or something, and things were bound to be awkward at first, but hopefully both he and Oliver could handle the situation in a mature fashion.
And Percy would have said something, but then the doors to the locker room burst open. Oliver appeared, dominating the doorframe, his bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He had changed from his yellow and blue Puddlemere United Quidditch robes to the slightly less dramatic yellow and blue Puddlemere United jersey. Before Percy could even get the word "Hi" out Oliver bellowed, "We won!!" He laughed, grabbed Percy's shoulders and planted a brief, messy kiss on Percy's open mouth.
What the-
The stared at each other for a second before Oliver laughed, pulled away and seized Percy by wrist, dragging him down the corridor.
Percy stumbled after him, completely flummoxed.
"Um..." Percy stammered. Funny how that didn't sound at all like "Oliver, we need to talk."
"It was a good game, wasn't it, Perce?" Oliver slapped Percy's back.
Percy swallowed and tried to speak again. A squeaky whimper was the only sound that came out.
Oliver hauled Percy over to one of his teammates and struck up an animated conversation. Percy stood at his side and tried desperately to process.
So. That hadn't really gone the way Percy had expected it to.
The words "What the hell was that?" rattled furiously around in his head, but he couldn't for the life of him get them out. And before he knew it, Percy was wedged between Oliver and Ellen in the back booth of some random pub, right in the middle of the infamous Puddlemere Post-game Pub crawl.
The team had decided to cram themselves all around one table, which made things rather crowded. Most of Puddlemere, except for Ellen and Oliver, were well on their way to being smashed.
The members of Puddlemere United were acting...well, just like they usually did, namely, like a family of chimpanzees. They were currently in a rather heated debate over just whose fault it was the one of the Wasps' chasers had scored early on in the game.
"Percy?" A voice to his right made Percy jump. It was Ellen. Percy liked Ellen. She was the only one of Oliver's teammates who hadn't been loud or intimidating or tried to hit on him.
"So what did you think of the game?" she asked.
"Oh. It was interesting," he replied, forcefully ripping his mind away from all thoughts of Oliver and the way it had felt when...
They fell into small talk. Percy tried to ignore the way Oliver was pressed up next to him, but it was more difficult when somehow Ellen managed to turn the conversation toward Oliver.
"You know, I'm glad you're here. Between you and me, Oliver's been acting odd. Playing like the devil, but moping around all week like someone set his favorite broomstick on fire."
"Oh?" said Percy, feeling a shot of guilt run through him. He could admit it, at least to himself: he should have sorted the whole thing out days ago (hell, he never should have let Oliver leave that night) but every time he almost owled Oliver or even though about explaining things, Percy hit a wall of bone-deep terror that he couldn't get around.
"Yeah. But he seems better now," Ellen said blandly, glancing over to Oliver, still arguing with Brad and Lisa over something.
Percy was silent.
"So when did you guys first meet?" Ellen asked.
"Oh. Um...I think it was after the sorting ceremony," Percy replied. "We were both Gryffindors, so-"
"No it wasn't," Oliver said.
Percy and Ellen turned to look at him.
"No, it wasn't. It before that- in Diagon Alley. Flourish and Botts. I was waiting for my dad to buy my books. The line was really long so I went to the section with the comic books and Quidditch magazines. I grabbed a bunch of them and went over to read in a corner in the very back of the shop. I lost track of time- and then someone said, 'Excuse me. Is your name Oliver?' I looked up and there was this skinny kid with red hair and glasses too big for his face."
Percy scoffed. Even if things were uncomfortable between them, he wasn't about to let that remark pass. "They were not too big for my face."
Percy braced himself as Oliver's eyes slid over to meet his.
"They were too. You know, you look better without them anyway." Oliver mouth curved up in a way that did not make Percy's breath catch at all. No it did not.
"I do?" Percy's voice softened against his will.
"Mm-hmm. You can see your eyes."
"Oh," said Percy. He could feel himself smiling.
Someone began coughing loudly. It was Ellen, with a bland expression on her face and a hand pressed over her chest.
"My drink went down the wrong pipe," Ellen said. She feigned an expression of concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't disturbing you two, was I?"
"No. No, you weren't," Percy said. Nothing was going on, because he and Oliver hadn't sorted about any of this.
"Anyway," Oliver continued, as though completely unaware of what had just happened, "I said, 'Yeah. What?' And Percy put his hands on his hips and said something like-"
"I think your father has been looking for you. You know, you really shouldn't have wandered off like that. He's quite worried,'" Percy said. He shook his head. "I'd completely forgotten about that."
Oliver shrugged. "Percy, alas, was even a prefect at age eleven," he said sadly. He took a gulp of his pint.
"You were probably a Quidditch maniac at birth, so don't even start," Percy shot back, relieved. This, at least, was familiar territory.
"Anyway," Oliver said, "I said thanks or something and I went back to reading. Percy started harassing me again-"
"Harassing you?"
"And finally I finished the article-"
"I was not harassing you, and you were ignoring me." Percy crossed his arms.
Oliver smiled. "And I stood up and- get this- Percy said, 'A Quidditch magazine? Isn't Quidditch rather a waste of time?'"
The entire table went silent.
Every single one of Oliver's teammates gaped at Percy in horror.
"Thanks a lot," Percy muttered under his breath.
"Anytime," said Oliver.
"What did you say?" Brad asked, glowering blearily over his drink.
"Ahem, well, I..." Percy swallowed.
"What did you say?" Brad asked again. He put his drink on the table with a thud.
"I was only eleven." Percy scooted closer to Oliver without realizing it.
"Was it 'Quidditch is a waste of time'?" asked Nancy.
"Um...It might have been something along those lines, yes. Anyone want anything from the bar? At all? I can go." Percy stood up.
"Anyway," said Oliver in a loud voice, tugging Percy back down, "By the time my dad found us, Percy and I were having this row in the middle of the personal growth section."
"You told me that my brain was screwed on the wrong way," said Percy, eyes narrowed.
Oliver grinned at him. "So Dad dragged me off and I didn't see Percy again until Hogwarts."
"And then you guys became friends, right?" Ellen asked.
"Well..." Oliver murmured.
"Not exactly," said Percy. He shifted. "We were in the same dormitory, but we never really-"
"We moved in different circles at school." Oliver shrugged.
"Right," said Percy. He averted his eyes to the table.
"Then how did you guys become friends?" Ellen asked. Percy could practically see the gears turning in her mind. "Oliver doesn't associate with that many non-Quidditch people."
"I do too!" protested Oliver.
"Need I remind you of Derek, your last boyfriend, who lasted two whole weeks before he was dumped because he didn't know why the 1753 Appleby Arrows were the greatest team in the history of the sport?"
"Oh yeah? Well...shut up, Ellen."
Ellen smirked, and then snapped her frightening gaze back to Percy. "So?"
"How- how did we become friends?" stammered Percy. He shot Oliver an alarmed glance. "Oh. My brothers were on the house Quidditch team with Oliver, you see," Percy said. He nodded at Oliver.
"I'm afraid I don't," Ellen replied.
Oliver focused on Percy in a way that made Percy practically squirm. "Well," said Oliver, very deliberately, "they thought that Perce and I should-"
"They- they celebrated our anniversary," Percy stammered, "And, um..."
Oliver chuckled "It was actually pretty funny. They did this thing to my bed, and Percy was-"
"Boring," Percy said. "It's a long, boring story and I'm sure you don't want to hear about all of it. Very boring." Percy trailed off with a significant cough.
"I'm sure," said Ellen.
"Don't be so embarrassed, Perce. You should go around in your boxers more often."
Percy didn't know what to say to that.
"It was too bad," Oliver sighed, his voice dropping to a timber that really made Percy squirm. "Interrupted right before I got you where I wanted to."
Or to that either.
"Heh. Boring," he said, wrenching himself straight ahead, away from the knowing, calculating look from Ellen on his right, and the far more terrifying one from Oliver on his left.
*~*~*~*
Oliver watched Percy, who was deeply, unconvincingly fascinated by whatever Brad was rambling on about, and sighed in relief. When he'd come out of the locker room before, he'd been so high on post-victory adrenaline and so happy to see Percy waiting there that he'd suddenly planted one on Percy. And despite the slight flash of "what the hell did I just do?" horror, the completely shocked expression on Percy's face had been pretty damn funny.
Anyway, things seemed back to normal now, thank Merlin. Which meant it was time. Oliver smirked.
Time to get Operation Percy Wants Me And Doesn't Know It Yet (But Not For Long) fully underway.
The set up was there- they were sitting next to each other, and most of the team too far into drunk revelry mode to notice much of anything. Step 1 of Oliver's brilliant master plan: Sit even closer to Percy.
Oliver slid over toward Percy, so their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to toe.
"So my poor mate James is completely mad for this girl. Mad," said Brad, one hand wrapped around his pint and the only pressed very seriously against the table. "And she was gorgeous, sure, but with the personality of an ice queen. Led him around by the nose for six months." Brad shook his head sadly, and knocked back the last of his beer.
"So what happened?" asked Lisa, one of the chasers.
"For some reason, against the good advice of all his mates, James decides that he's going to...propose," Brad explained with a shudder.
"Poor chap. No idea what he was getting into," said Mark sadly.
Lisa, who happened to be his girlfriend, whacked him on the shoulder. "Oi!"
"Anyway," Brad cut in, "James knows if he's going to do it, it has to be only the best for Ms. Lydia Greenleaf-Tuffington..."
Oliver shifted in his sea, so that his hip rubbed up against Percy's. Oliver almost smirked again at Percy's reaction. Was that a shiver he detected?
"...He buys a ring he can't afford and takes her to one of these four star places, you know, the kind that have a two-month waiting list?" Brad continued.
Oliver shifted again with a sigh, this time moving his arm to rest along the back of the booth.
"So, the pair of them are sitting there, poor James stuffed into a suit, and in order to get up courage, he starts ordering scotches and knocking them back. Finally, around dessert, he's ready. Shit-faced, but ready..."
Step 2: His arm dropped onto Percy's shoulder. Percy definitely started. Oliver saw Percy's head move to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Oliver played it cool, listening to Brad, ignoring the hammering of his own heartbeat and the "what the hell?" vibes radiating from Percy.
"...reaches into his pocket, pats around. The ring isn't there. James realizes that..." Brad paused for dramatic effect. "It's sitting on the kitchen counter back at his flat. He has to go back and get it..."
Step 3: Oliver right hand snaked over to rest casually on Percy's knee. Percy coughed. It definitely sounded like an 'I secretly want you, Oliver' cough. And hell, knowing Percy, the fact that he hadn't jumped up and left the pub by now was a good sign.
"...he's completely pissed at this point but he explains, stands up, waves his wand and slurs something. Guess what happened?"
Percy coughed again.
Oliver finally looked over at Percy. His mouth was a thin tense line, and he was starting to blush from the neck up. Percy was looking at Oliver with a mixture of shock and horror (and, Oliver thought, some hidden longing buried in there). "Are you okay, Perce? Have something stuck in your throat?"
Percy glared and reached down to remove Oliver's hand, but Oliver started moving it. Very. Slowly. "No I'm fine," Percy croaked.
"Splinched himself?" said Ellen.
"Did he end up in Scotland?" asked Mark.
Percy was turning steadily red now. Oliver began running his thumb up and down the side of Percy's neck.
"No. No. In fact, he was still at the table. But James looks down, and is rather startled to realize that he's standing there, completely starkers, in the middle of one of the most expensive restaurants in town." Brad let out a bark of laughter.
"You're lying, you wanker!" Nancy gaped at Brad.
"No, I'm dead serious! The ponce only apparated his clothes home!" Everyone at the table roared.
Percy shook off Oliver's hand and inched away from him. Wait- what did that mean?
"Oliver. Stop," Percy said. There was something about the tone of Percy's voice that made the blood drain from Oliver's face in a hot rush that left him feeling cold and alone even in the crowded pub.
"What?" Oliver tried to sound innocent, but the word came out quiet and confused.
"Please don't. We need to talk later." It was final, almost condescending, and it made Oliver sick to think that'd he gone and screwed up something else. So much for being able to read people.
I just never learn, do I? Oliver took his hands from Percy's shoulder and knee, and put them on the table. It sounded so quiet all of a sudden. He was an ass.
"Oh. Fine. I get it." His pint was beginning to look more and more appetizing all the time.
"But-"
Oliver turned away, and, sulking, downed the rest of his pint. Fine. If he was going to fuck this up, he was going to do it good and proper.
*~*~*~*
Wait. That's not what he meant. But unless Percy wanted to have it all out in the middle of the pub (which he was not keen on at all), there was nothing to do but sit there and feel awful and watch as Oliver dramatically knocked back more beers.
Percy crossed his arms, fingers twitching. All he had to do was sit this out, go home, and then wait until a more appropriate time- when Oliver was not smashed. And then they could sort this out.
That's why you aren't saying anything. Coward.
This is a good thing, Percy told himself. Now Oliver can spend all his energy on getting drunk and none on hitting on me.
At least, that's what he'd thought. Because Percy had forgotten what a friendly drunk Oliver was, rather foolishly considering what had happened the last time he'd come face to face (and mouth to mouth) with a plastered Oliver Wood.
In what seemed like no time at all, Oliver went from angry and sulking to smashed and pretty happy indeed.
Oliver was currently flopped over the table, head propped unsteadily on his arms, giggling (almost harshly, Percy thought) at Brad and Mark, who were having a fake duel with the tiny drink umbrellas. Percy watched Oliver out of the corner of his eye.
Suddenly Oliver's head swung his way. "Hey Perce?" Oliver slurred.
"What?" Percy turned from Ellen, who he'd been talking to while pretending that everything was okay. He smiled tentatively.
"I forgive you." Oliver grinned blearily. He offered Percy a tiny blue drink umbrella.
"Thanks." Percy smiled just a little. Oliver was kind of an adorable drunk.
"Issokay, Perce," Oliver told him magnanimously. "You'll come around evenshually. Islike that Muggle guy said- hope springs...something. A really long bloody time."
And there it was, right on schedule, the foot creeping up his leg.
Not again.
"Oliver," Percy groaned. He couldn't take this again.
Up and up...
Percy's shoulders stiffened. "Stop that!" he said, glancing around the pub.
And up...
"Stop what?" Oliver asked.
"You know exactly what-" Percy choked on the rest of the sentence. His hand tightened around his glass. Percy took a tight breath. Then another. He was red in the face when he finally bit out, "Oliver, stop it, I can't concentrate when you do that."
Oliver smiled in triumph and said, "Good," with the sloppy over-articulation of the truly smashed. His foot disappeared, at least.
"I will get you back for this. Later." Percy cursed the slight breathiness of his voice.
Oliver raised his eyebrows. "Promise?"
Percy scowled at him. Why couldn't Oliver wait to grope him until after they had sorted things out?? Wait- that's not what he meant exactly, but...Percy just detested not knowing where things stood between them. "That's not fair," he finally said, surprising himself.
Oliver tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because...because!" Percy hissed, looking around again to see if anyone was paying attention. "You're not supposed to be drunk, and you're definitely not supposed to be hitting on me. We need to talk about this!" He really didn't want to make a scene here.
"I can think of a better way to spend some time." Oliver leered.
"That's just what I mean," Percy said, furiously pointing at him.
"Great Godric's Ghost, WOULD YOU TWO JUST SHAG ALREADY?!?!?" bellowed Nancy.
Percy's head whipped around to find the entire table staring at them. After a moment of horrified silence, Lisa began giggling very hard into her drink. Ellen said, "Nancy!"
Nancy said, "What? Hey Oliver, if you don't want him, I'd be happy to-" At which point she was kicked very hard under the table. The other members of the table (along with plenty of strangers in the pub) were still ogling the pair of them.
Percy had never been more embarrassed in his life.
"Fine!" Oliver stood up, glaring daggers at Nancy. "We will! Come on, Percy, let's go shag," he slurred, holding out his hand to Percy.
Correction. Now he never been more embarrassed in his life. "Oliver!" Percy hissed.
"Percy, come on! You know you want to. I'm dead sexy."
Percy's faced flamed. "You're drunk, Oliver." Stop this and shut up please please please...
"So what? What? Are you afraid I'm going to snog you again?"
"That's not it-"
"You didn't like it before? I can do better. Let's practice."
Percy stood up so quickly the glasses rattled on the table. "Will you excuse us?" he said with a fake smile, pushing Oliver away from the booth as calmly as he was able.
"Are we going to go shag?" Oliver asked.
"No!" Percy yanked Oliver out of the pub, ears burning, back ramrod straight.
"But- but I'm irresistible," Oliver whined.
"Says who?" Percy muttered.
"Me." Oliver stumbled out of the pub and almost knocked Percy over. Percy grabbed him and tried to keep them both from tumbling to the ground. When he had, Percy found that Oliver's face was about an inch from his own.
"Percy?"
"Mm?"
Oliver was looking Percy straight in the eyes, in that way no one else did. "You really don't want me, do you?" he said plaintively.
Percy felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Oh, Oliver was good. Damn good. Bastard. "Oliver, I- look, we are not going to have this conversation now." Percy stood up and grabbed Oliver's arm to haul him down the street.
Oliver didn't budge. His eyes were wide. "No- you do," he said quietly, with more than just the usual conviction of the plastered. A grin flitted across his face.
Great. The evening just got better and better. "Oliver-"
"You do." Oliver let out a bark of laughter. "You do, you do, you do."
"We're not talking about this now," Percy repeated. He dragged Oliver forward, staring at the sidewalk.
Oliver halted. "Why not?" Oliver now sounded like a five year old.
"Because you're so pissed you can hardly stand up," Percy snapped. "I'm taking you home." He grabbed Oliver's hand and pulled him along.
Oliver grinned. "Are we going there to shag?"
"No." Good God, Oliver had a one track mind. At least he seemed to have forgotten about-
"Why?"
"Because." Percy gritted his teeth and steered Oliver around a corner.
"Because why?"
"Because."
"That's not-"
"Oliver." Percy stopped, placed both his hands on Oliver's shoulders and said, very deliberately, "Let me explain something to you. No one is going to be, er, shagging anyone tonight. I'm going to take you home. You are going to go to bed. Alone." Percy added when Oliver opened his mouth again. "We will talk about this later."
Percy searched Oliver's face for some sign that he understood. Was there even the slightest, tiniest possibility that Oliver was actually going to cooperate so Percy could go home and hex himself out of his misery?
"Shagging," Oliver giggled. "You can't even say it with out turning red."
"Oliver. I'm not even going to respond to that." He turned and resumed steering Oliver toward his flat.
"Shag, Percy. Say it with me: shaaaagging," said Oliver, in a voice that was far too loud. "Also known as sex. Making love, if you want to be girly about it. Sexual intercourse..."
Someone up there must really hate him. That was the only explanation for this.
"...Boffing. The beast with two backs. Getting your oats. Doing the Hippity Dipp...Dippty- I like that one-"
"Oliver !" For the second time that evening, Percy halted on the sidewalk to give Oliver a withering glare (somewhat diminished by the fact that he was indeed blushing).
"There's no reason to get so embarrassed," Oliver said.
Percy crossed his arms. "I'm not embarrassed." He sniffed.
Oliver slung an arm over Percy's shoulder. "It's all just a natural part of life, Perce..."
"Oliver." This was torturous.
"...you see, Perce, when two people love each other very much..."
Percy shrugged off the dangerously warm weight of Oliver's arm. "Oliver, I already had the facts of life talk ages ago." Percy could feel the flush creeping up his face.
Oliver talked louder "...and if you don't have a partner, you know, you can always-"
"Oliver!" Percy hissed.
"See? Uptight."
Percy's hands clenched. "Look I didn't want to have to do this," he said importantly, reaching for his wand. "But if I don't, I think I'm going to murder you before we reach your flat."
Oliver looked worried. "Perce?"
"Sobrietus," said Percy, neatly flicking his wrist.
*~*~*~*
Oliver's eyes snapped into clarity just as his mind did.
He lurched forward with a surprised grunt. Having all the alcohol instantly removed from one's system tended to throw a person's balance.
"Careful." Percy guided him to sit down on a nearby bench.
Oliver plunked down and dropped his head to his hands. "Ow. What'd you do that for?" Oliver groaned.
There was a pause. "It was the only way I could think of to get you to shut up." Percy voice had turned hollow.
Oliver sat on the bench and didn't say anything. The events of the evening were returning painfully clear to his head.
Sure, he'd made a royal ass of himself- what else was new? - but that wasn't the important part. Oh no.
Some things sound like great ideas when you're drunk and turn out to be not-so-great in the light of day. (That time Oliver had been convinced to do a strip tease for the customers at Begley's Pub, to name one.)
But even though it had hit him while smashed, Oliver knew that it was true. He knew deep down at the very bottom of everything that he'd been right all along: Percy did want him.
Percy wanted him. He'd turned the thought over in his head. Again. And again, until it picked up speed and went spinning and crashing around in his head like a joyfully out-of-control broom.
Percy wanted him. (Of course he did. Had there ever been any doubt?)
Oliver could feel a dopey grin spreading back over his face. Mental victory dance.
"What?" Percy asked.
"Oh, nothing, Perce." Oliver leaned back on the bench and took a deep cleansing breath. "It's just- it's a beautiful night, isn't it?" he said. He couldn't get that stupid smile off his face and he didn't want to.
"I suppose," said Percy. He still sounded weird.
"I’m feeling better. Let’s go.” Oliver stood up. They made an odd pair walking down the street. Percy walked with awkward yet quick steps, as though he couldn’t get back to Oliver’s flat soon enough. Oliver, on the other hand, was practically bouncing along.
Percy wanted him. Ha!
He would have to do something about this. Soon. Very very soon. But how to go about it? Mentally Oliver stroked his chin. Oliver stole a sly sidelong glance at Percy, who seemed very serious for some reason.
An operation of this sort required finesse and strategy…
He could wait until they got back up to his flat and snog Percy.
Huh. Oliver liked that idea.
Then again, maybe he only needed to wait until they got to the steps of his building. You know, to get it over with as soon as possible. Efficiency: it was a good thing, or something like that.
Then again, maybe he only needed to wait until they got on his street.
Or to that corner right up there.
Or hell, right now. Oliver really liked that idea.
“Oliver?”
Percy voice came abruptly, just as Oliver was ready to spring into action. Oliver tripped over himself and almost ate the pavement.
He righted his steps sheepishly. “The sidewalk was crooked.” Oliver said. The light from a streetlamp was doing strange things to Percy’s hair. “Er…What is it?”
*~*~*~*
Percy’s jaw and shoulders set with purpose. His eyes squarely met Oliver’s. Fine. Fine. He was going to say this. He was sick and tired of being afraid to, anyway.
“There is something we need to address,” Percy said.
“Address? Okay then,” Oliver replied, smiling at something.
“About what you said before…”
“The shagging?” Oliver offered. He rocked back and forth on his heels.
Percy coughed. “No. About what you said about me,” Percy prompted. Please, Oliver, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about.
“You being uptight?” Oliver blinked, looking completely clueless.
Percy was beginning to get frustrated. “No,” he said. “About me wanting you.”
“What about it?” Oliver asked with a blithe smile.
Percy shot Oliver an “I’ll get you for this later” look and soldiered on. “You weren’t wrong. About me.”
“Really?” Oliver asked, obviously trying to look serious. He failed.
Percy glared again and took a deep breath. “I know it might not have seemed like it, after what happened back in my flat earlier this week- I apologize for that, by the by- but I’m not entirely sure that you feel the same way- I know what you said earlier, but you were rather drunk and all, and even though in vino veritas and what have you, you never really know, do you?” Percy laughed weakly.
“In vino veritas?” Oliver asked.
Percy was clearly determined to rattle on. “But even if you don’t, it’s only proper that-”
“In vino veritas, Perce?”
Percy shut his mouth with an angry huff. “It’s Latin,” he ground out. “It can be translated as ‘There is truth in wine.’”
“I can’t believe you used Latin in a normal conversation.”
“There’s nothing wrong with knowing Latin,” said Percy, offended. “Most modern spell incantations derive from Latin. You know I took a seminar on the history of linguistics and spellwork my last year at school. It was-” Percy stopped and shook his head, glaring at Oliver. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me, Oliver. As I was saying-”
“You’re the only person I know who would do that.” Oliver said fondly. “Right. Sorry,” he added, when Percy angrily cleared his throat.
Percy took another nervous breath “There’s more, Oliver. You see, for me, at any rate, there’s more to this whole thing, whatever it is, than just the…physical aspect of- “
“Latin.” Oliver chuckled.
Percy was really getting annoyed now. “Anyway-”
“It’s just funny.” Oliver tried to stifle a grin again.
“I’m sure it is,” Percy snapped. “Anyway,” Percy continued firmly, staring at his feet, “you also have the right to know that I…my feelings are such- God, this sounded so much better in my head-”
“Hee.”
Percy’s head whipped up angrily. “Do you mind?? I’m trying to tell you that I love you if you would just shut up for five seconds you irritating prat!!” he yelled, loudly.
They stared at each other in the thick silence of the evening. At least he finally shut up, thought Percy weakly. Oliver kept staring at him. It was out there. And Oliver wasn’t. Saying. Anything.
Whoever had claimed that the truth would set you free was horribly, damnably wrong. Percy pressed his lips together. He could not recall a time when he’d felt more exposed, more naked, than under the silence of Oliver’s shocked, blinking gaze. And the ridiculous part of the whole thing was that even though he wanted to bid Oliver good night and save a little bit of his dignity, there was something else he wanted more. Something he’d wanted for a long time.
On another note, why wasn’t Oliver saying anything?!
“There you have it then. Can’t take it back now, can I?” Percy muttered. “And you needn’t feel obligated to requite my feelings or anything. Just thought you should know. But if you don’t…of course, I understand.”
He risked a glance at Oliver, whose mouth was open and whose damn hair was trying (and failing) to flop over his forehead. For the first time in his life, Percy thought he understood the meaning of the phrase ‘nothing to lose’. “But before I go…would you mind…oh, hang it.”
Percy darted forward and kissed Oliver. Quickly, before Percy had the chance to really see what he’d been missing. The brief taste was bad enough, though.
He’d barely pulled back more than a few centimeters when Oliver finally spoke.
*~*~*~*
“Percy.” Oliver’s voice came out low; he noted with satisfaction the tiny hitch in Percy’s shoulders. Excellent.
Percy’s eyes were still locked on Oliver’s as he took a step back. “Hmm?”
“Come here.” Oliver took a step forward.
Percy stepped back, until he bumped up against a streetlamp, one of the old-fashioned glass kind filled with lightning bugs. The light did the strangest things to Percy’s hair. Percy stopped backing up and watched him.
Oliver moved forward again, slowly, taking in every detail of Percy’s freckles, and his lower lip and his eyes, which closed under the close, intense scrutiny.
The kiss was nothing special to begin with. Percy barely moved at all; his arms flailed uselessly for a moment before his fists clenched halfway to his sides. Oliver could feel Percy’s shoulders hunch, trembling from the effort of holding himself back.
Oliver really had no choice but slip into Percy’s robes and run his hands down Percy’s sensitive hips at the same moment he suckled Percy’s lower lip.
Oliver could feel the instant Percy finally let go, heralded by a soft helpless moan that Oliver could almost taste. And when Percy opened that mouth of his, Oliver barely had time for the fleeting thought of “Attaboy, Perce. Knew you had it in you” before Percy moved and Oliver somehow found himself with his back against the streetlamp. Oliver’s eyes flickered open and shut in surprise. And then Percy’s hands were running into his hair and Percy’s tongue-
Where. The hell. Had Percy learned to do that?
His lungs burned when Percy finally pulled off and tucked his head next to Oliver’s with a deep, shuddering breath. Oliver gaped, and sagged against the streetlamp, his arms around Percy’s waist. He felt Percy breathe.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Perce,” he managed.
Percy just shrugged in his arms, as if snogging people senseless was something he did everyday. It was quiet.
“Hey, Perce.”
Percy slowly pulled his head back. Holy hell. The emotion leaking all over his face…no one had ever ever looked at him like that. “Me too,” Oliver said. It was all he could get out.
Percy stared. Dammit, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.
Percy seemed to understand, though, because a second later they were back to making out against the streetlamp.
Oliver’s brain skittered to a stop at that point, thanks to Percy’s damn tongue. When they stopped, it was all Oliver could do to lean weakly against the streetlamp. It was going to take a while to get used to this new, improved, “now with free snogging!” version of Percy.
Oliver was still blinking in silence as Percy straightened his robes with the appearance of calm, though there was just light enough to see that he was blushing.
Percy looked at Oliver and didn’t say anything for a bit. “‘Me too?’” Percy made a face. He shook his head, tucked in a smile, and took a step down the street.
Bastard.
What the hell had just happened?
“Hey!” Oliver pushed himself off the streetlamp and jogged after him. “Yours wasn’t much better.” Oliver said when he’d caught up.
Percy snorted. “Yes it was.”
Oliver snorted back. “Wasn’t.”
“Yes. It was.” Percy finally slowed to a stop in front of Oliver’s building.
“I hate to break it to you, Perce, but just because yours had Latin in it only means you’re a dork.” Oliver spelled the door and held it open for Percy.
Percy went through. “It was important. And besides, you kept interrupting me!” Percy exclaimed, climbing the steps.
“I was happy! I couldn’t help it!” Oliver followed him. He took the stairs two at a time.
“Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem*,” Percy said in a tone of fond exasperation.
“What did you say?” Oliver asked the back of Percy’s head.
Percy put a foot on the last stair and pivoted around to face Oliver. He graced Oliver with that smirking I-know-something-you-don’t-know look. “Nothing.”
“I’ll bet,” Oliver said, climbing the last of the steps with a suspicious glare. Percy leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and smirked, and then they both stood still and just mooned at each other like a pair of idiots.
Oliver put a hand against the door to his flat.
“So,” said Percy, casually staring at the floor. “Is your flatmate in?”
Oliver reached for his wand to alohamora the door. “He might not be. Why? Oh.”
Ha, Oliver thought.
*Percy’s Latin phrase actually means "In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags."
A/N: Well that’s it, guys. There should be a short epilogue on its way soon (I hope). After all, Percy and Oliver deserve to get some revenge on Fred and George…
Don’t they? ;)
Author: Merelyn25 (
merelyn)Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters, universe, etc. in this story don't belong to me. They belong to JKR and Warner Bros. I'm just borrowing. :) No copyright infringement is intended, and I'm makin' no money off this.
Notes: Still not OoTP-compatible. Here's Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, and Chapter 7a.
Percy stood in the corridor outside the locker room waiting for Oliver after the game, feeling about as green as he must have looked. (It turned out that unfortunately he wasn't cowardly enough to bolt and find a way to avoid Oliver for the rest of his life.) Just get it over with, he thought. Just tell him and sort this whole mess out.
Of course, Oliver was probably going to be hurt or embarrassed or something, and things were bound to be awkward at first, but hopefully both he and Oliver could handle the situation in a mature fashion.
And Percy would have said something, but then the doors to the locker room burst open. Oliver appeared, dominating the doorframe, his bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He had changed from his yellow and blue Puddlemere United Quidditch robes to the slightly less dramatic yellow and blue Puddlemere United jersey. Before Percy could even get the word "Hi" out Oliver bellowed, "We won!!" He laughed, grabbed Percy's shoulders and planted a brief, messy kiss on Percy's open mouth.
What the-
The stared at each other for a second before Oliver laughed, pulled away and seized Percy by wrist, dragging him down the corridor.
Percy stumbled after him, completely flummoxed.
"Um..." Percy stammered. Funny how that didn't sound at all like "Oliver, we need to talk."
"It was a good game, wasn't it, Perce?" Oliver slapped Percy's back.
Percy swallowed and tried to speak again. A squeaky whimper was the only sound that came out.
Oliver hauled Percy over to one of his teammates and struck up an animated conversation. Percy stood at his side and tried desperately to process.
So. That hadn't really gone the way Percy had expected it to.
The words "What the hell was that?" rattled furiously around in his head, but he couldn't for the life of him get them out. And before he knew it, Percy was wedged between Oliver and Ellen in the back booth of some random pub, right in the middle of the infamous Puddlemere Post-game Pub crawl.
The team had decided to cram themselves all around one table, which made things rather crowded. Most of Puddlemere, except for Ellen and Oliver, were well on their way to being smashed.
The members of Puddlemere United were acting...well, just like they usually did, namely, like a family of chimpanzees. They were currently in a rather heated debate over just whose fault it was the one of the Wasps' chasers had scored early on in the game.
"Percy?" A voice to his right made Percy jump. It was Ellen. Percy liked Ellen. She was the only one of Oliver's teammates who hadn't been loud or intimidating or tried to hit on him.
"So what did you think of the game?" she asked.
"Oh. It was interesting," he replied, forcefully ripping his mind away from all thoughts of Oliver and the way it had felt when...
They fell into small talk. Percy tried to ignore the way Oliver was pressed up next to him, but it was more difficult when somehow Ellen managed to turn the conversation toward Oliver.
"You know, I'm glad you're here. Between you and me, Oliver's been acting odd. Playing like the devil, but moping around all week like someone set his favorite broomstick on fire."
"Oh?" said Percy, feeling a shot of guilt run through him. He could admit it, at least to himself: he should have sorted the whole thing out days ago (hell, he never should have let Oliver leave that night) but every time he almost owled Oliver or even though about explaining things, Percy hit a wall of bone-deep terror that he couldn't get around.
"Yeah. But he seems better now," Ellen said blandly, glancing over to Oliver, still arguing with Brad and Lisa over something.
Percy was silent.
"So when did you guys first meet?" Ellen asked.
"Oh. Um...I think it was after the sorting ceremony," Percy replied. "We were both Gryffindors, so-"
"No it wasn't," Oliver said.
Percy and Ellen turned to look at him.
"No, it wasn't. It before that- in Diagon Alley. Flourish and Botts. I was waiting for my dad to buy my books. The line was really long so I went to the section with the comic books and Quidditch magazines. I grabbed a bunch of them and went over to read in a corner in the very back of the shop. I lost track of time- and then someone said, 'Excuse me. Is your name Oliver?' I looked up and there was this skinny kid with red hair and glasses too big for his face."
Percy scoffed. Even if things were uncomfortable between them, he wasn't about to let that remark pass. "They were not too big for my face."
Percy braced himself as Oliver's eyes slid over to meet his.
"They were too. You know, you look better without them anyway." Oliver mouth curved up in a way that did not make Percy's breath catch at all. No it did not.
"I do?" Percy's voice softened against his will.
"Mm-hmm. You can see your eyes."
"Oh," said Percy. He could feel himself smiling.
Someone began coughing loudly. It was Ellen, with a bland expression on her face and a hand pressed over her chest.
"My drink went down the wrong pipe," Ellen said. She feigned an expression of concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't disturbing you two, was I?"
"No. No, you weren't," Percy said. Nothing was going on, because he and Oliver hadn't sorted about any of this.
"Anyway," Oliver continued, as though completely unaware of what had just happened, "I said, 'Yeah. What?' And Percy put his hands on his hips and said something like-"
"I think your father has been looking for you. You know, you really shouldn't have wandered off like that. He's quite worried,'" Percy said. He shook his head. "I'd completely forgotten about that."
Oliver shrugged. "Percy, alas, was even a prefect at age eleven," he said sadly. He took a gulp of his pint.
"You were probably a Quidditch maniac at birth, so don't even start," Percy shot back, relieved. This, at least, was familiar territory.
"Anyway," Oliver said, "I said thanks or something and I went back to reading. Percy started harassing me again-"
"Harassing you?"
"And finally I finished the article-"
"I was not harassing you, and you were ignoring me." Percy crossed his arms.
Oliver smiled. "And I stood up and- get this- Percy said, 'A Quidditch magazine? Isn't Quidditch rather a waste of time?'"
The entire table went silent.
Every single one of Oliver's teammates gaped at Percy in horror.
"Thanks a lot," Percy muttered under his breath.
"Anytime," said Oliver.
"What did you say?" Brad asked, glowering blearily over his drink.
"Ahem, well, I..." Percy swallowed.
"What did you say?" Brad asked again. He put his drink on the table with a thud.
"I was only eleven." Percy scooted closer to Oliver without realizing it.
"Was it 'Quidditch is a waste of time'?" asked Nancy.
"Um...It might have been something along those lines, yes. Anyone want anything from the bar? At all? I can go." Percy stood up.
"Anyway," said Oliver in a loud voice, tugging Percy back down, "By the time my dad found us, Percy and I were having this row in the middle of the personal growth section."
"You told me that my brain was screwed on the wrong way," said Percy, eyes narrowed.
Oliver grinned at him. "So Dad dragged me off and I didn't see Percy again until Hogwarts."
"And then you guys became friends, right?" Ellen asked.
"Well..." Oliver murmured.
"Not exactly," said Percy. He shifted. "We were in the same dormitory, but we never really-"
"We moved in different circles at school." Oliver shrugged.
"Right," said Percy. He averted his eyes to the table.
"Then how did you guys become friends?" Ellen asked. Percy could practically see the gears turning in her mind. "Oliver doesn't associate with that many non-Quidditch people."
"I do too!" protested Oliver.
"Need I remind you of Derek, your last boyfriend, who lasted two whole weeks before he was dumped because he didn't know why the 1753 Appleby Arrows were the greatest team in the history of the sport?"
"Oh yeah? Well...shut up, Ellen."
Ellen smirked, and then snapped her frightening gaze back to Percy. "So?"
"How- how did we become friends?" stammered Percy. He shot Oliver an alarmed glance. "Oh. My brothers were on the house Quidditch team with Oliver, you see," Percy said. He nodded at Oliver.
"I'm afraid I don't," Ellen replied.
Oliver focused on Percy in a way that made Percy practically squirm. "Well," said Oliver, very deliberately, "they thought that Perce and I should-"
"They- they celebrated our anniversary," Percy stammered, "And, um..."
Oliver chuckled "It was actually pretty funny. They did this thing to my bed, and Percy was-"
"Boring," Percy said. "It's a long, boring story and I'm sure you don't want to hear about all of it. Very boring." Percy trailed off with a significant cough.
"I'm sure," said Ellen.
"Don't be so embarrassed, Perce. You should go around in your boxers more often."
Percy didn't know what to say to that.
"It was too bad," Oliver sighed, his voice dropping to a timber that really made Percy squirm. "Interrupted right before I got you where I wanted to."
Or to that either.
"Heh. Boring," he said, wrenching himself straight ahead, away from the knowing, calculating look from Ellen on his right, and the far more terrifying one from Oliver on his left.
Oliver watched Percy, who was deeply, unconvincingly fascinated by whatever Brad was rambling on about, and sighed in relief. When he'd come out of the locker room before, he'd been so high on post-victory adrenaline and so happy to see Percy waiting there that he'd suddenly planted one on Percy. And despite the slight flash of "what the hell did I just do?" horror, the completely shocked expression on Percy's face had been pretty damn funny.
Anyway, things seemed back to normal now, thank Merlin. Which meant it was time. Oliver smirked.
Time to get Operation Percy Wants Me And Doesn't Know It Yet (But Not For Long) fully underway.
The set up was there- they were sitting next to each other, and most of the team too far into drunk revelry mode to notice much of anything. Step 1 of Oliver's brilliant master plan: Sit even closer to Percy.
Oliver slid over toward Percy, so their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to toe.
"So my poor mate James is completely mad for this girl. Mad," said Brad, one hand wrapped around his pint and the only pressed very seriously against the table. "And she was gorgeous, sure, but with the personality of an ice queen. Led him around by the nose for six months." Brad shook his head sadly, and knocked back the last of his beer.
"So what happened?" asked Lisa, one of the chasers.
"For some reason, against the good advice of all his mates, James decides that he's going to...propose," Brad explained with a shudder.
"Poor chap. No idea what he was getting into," said Mark sadly.
Lisa, who happened to be his girlfriend, whacked him on the shoulder. "Oi!"
"Anyway," Brad cut in, "James knows if he's going to do it, it has to be only the best for Ms. Lydia Greenleaf-Tuffington..."
Oliver shifted in his sea, so that his hip rubbed up against Percy's. Oliver almost smirked again at Percy's reaction. Was that a shiver he detected?
"...He buys a ring he can't afford and takes her to one of these four star places, you know, the kind that have a two-month waiting list?" Brad continued.
Oliver shifted again with a sigh, this time moving his arm to rest along the back of the booth.
"So, the pair of them are sitting there, poor James stuffed into a suit, and in order to get up courage, he starts ordering scotches and knocking them back. Finally, around dessert, he's ready. Shit-faced, but ready..."
Step 2: His arm dropped onto Percy's shoulder. Percy definitely started. Oliver saw Percy's head move to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Oliver played it cool, listening to Brad, ignoring the hammering of his own heartbeat and the "what the hell?" vibes radiating from Percy.
"...reaches into his pocket, pats around. The ring isn't there. James realizes that..." Brad paused for dramatic effect. "It's sitting on the kitchen counter back at his flat. He has to go back and get it..."
Step 3: Oliver right hand snaked over to rest casually on Percy's knee. Percy coughed. It definitely sounded like an 'I secretly want you, Oliver' cough. And hell, knowing Percy, the fact that he hadn't jumped up and left the pub by now was a good sign.
"...he's completely pissed at this point but he explains, stands up, waves his wand and slurs something. Guess what happened?"
Percy coughed again.
Oliver finally looked over at Percy. His mouth was a thin tense line, and he was starting to blush from the neck up. Percy was looking at Oliver with a mixture of shock and horror (and, Oliver thought, some hidden longing buried in there). "Are you okay, Perce? Have something stuck in your throat?"
Percy glared and reached down to remove Oliver's hand, but Oliver started moving it. Very. Slowly. "No I'm fine," Percy croaked.
"Splinched himself?" said Ellen.
"Did he end up in Scotland?" asked Mark.
Percy was turning steadily red now. Oliver began running his thumb up and down the side of Percy's neck.
"No. No. In fact, he was still at the table. But James looks down, and is rather startled to realize that he's standing there, completely starkers, in the middle of one of the most expensive restaurants in town." Brad let out a bark of laughter.
"You're lying, you wanker!" Nancy gaped at Brad.
"No, I'm dead serious! The ponce only apparated his clothes home!" Everyone at the table roared.
Percy shook off Oliver's hand and inched away from him. Wait- what did that mean?
"Oliver. Stop," Percy said. There was something about the tone of Percy's voice that made the blood drain from Oliver's face in a hot rush that left him feeling cold and alone even in the crowded pub.
"What?" Oliver tried to sound innocent, but the word came out quiet and confused.
"Please don't. We need to talk later." It was final, almost condescending, and it made Oliver sick to think that'd he gone and screwed up something else. So much for being able to read people.
I just never learn, do I? Oliver took his hands from Percy's shoulder and knee, and put them on the table. It sounded so quiet all of a sudden. He was an ass.
"Oh. Fine. I get it." His pint was beginning to look more and more appetizing all the time.
"But-"
Oliver turned away, and, sulking, downed the rest of his pint. Fine. If he was going to fuck this up, he was going to do it good and proper.
Wait. That's not what he meant. But unless Percy wanted to have it all out in the middle of the pub (which he was not keen on at all), there was nothing to do but sit there and feel awful and watch as Oliver dramatically knocked back more beers.
Percy crossed his arms, fingers twitching. All he had to do was sit this out, go home, and then wait until a more appropriate time- when Oliver was not smashed. And then they could sort this out.
That's why you aren't saying anything. Coward.
This is a good thing, Percy told himself. Now Oliver can spend all his energy on getting drunk and none on hitting on me.
At least, that's what he'd thought. Because Percy had forgotten what a friendly drunk Oliver was, rather foolishly considering what had happened the last time he'd come face to face (and mouth to mouth) with a plastered Oliver Wood.
In what seemed like no time at all, Oliver went from angry and sulking to smashed and pretty happy indeed.
Oliver was currently flopped over the table, head propped unsteadily on his arms, giggling (almost harshly, Percy thought) at Brad and Mark, who were having a fake duel with the tiny drink umbrellas. Percy watched Oliver out of the corner of his eye.
Suddenly Oliver's head swung his way. "Hey Perce?" Oliver slurred.
"What?" Percy turned from Ellen, who he'd been talking to while pretending that everything was okay. He smiled tentatively.
"I forgive you." Oliver grinned blearily. He offered Percy a tiny blue drink umbrella.
"Thanks." Percy smiled just a little. Oliver was kind of an adorable drunk.
"Issokay, Perce," Oliver told him magnanimously. "You'll come around evenshually. Islike that Muggle guy said- hope springs...something. A really long bloody time."
And there it was, right on schedule, the foot creeping up his leg.
Not again.
"Oliver," Percy groaned. He couldn't take this again.
Up and up...
Percy's shoulders stiffened. "Stop that!" he said, glancing around the pub.
And up...
"Stop what?" Oliver asked.
"You know exactly what-" Percy choked on the rest of the sentence. His hand tightened around his glass. Percy took a tight breath. Then another. He was red in the face when he finally bit out, "Oliver, stop it, I can't concentrate when you do that."
Oliver smiled in triumph and said, "Good," with the sloppy over-articulation of the truly smashed. His foot disappeared, at least.
"I will get you back for this. Later." Percy cursed the slight breathiness of his voice.
Oliver raised his eyebrows. "Promise?"
Percy scowled at him. Why couldn't Oliver wait to grope him until after they had sorted things out?? Wait- that's not what he meant exactly, but...Percy just detested not knowing where things stood between them. "That's not fair," he finally said, surprising himself.
Oliver tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because...because!" Percy hissed, looking around again to see if anyone was paying attention. "You're not supposed to be drunk, and you're definitely not supposed to be hitting on me. We need to talk about this!" He really didn't want to make a scene here.
"I can think of a better way to spend some time." Oliver leered.
"That's just what I mean," Percy said, furiously pointing at him.
"Great Godric's Ghost, WOULD YOU TWO JUST SHAG ALREADY?!?!?" bellowed Nancy.
Percy's head whipped around to find the entire table staring at them. After a moment of horrified silence, Lisa began giggling very hard into her drink. Ellen said, "Nancy!"
Nancy said, "What? Hey Oliver, if you don't want him, I'd be happy to-" At which point she was kicked very hard under the table. The other members of the table (along with plenty of strangers in the pub) were still ogling the pair of them.
Percy had never been more embarrassed in his life.
"Fine!" Oliver stood up, glaring daggers at Nancy. "We will! Come on, Percy, let's go shag," he slurred, holding out his hand to Percy.
Correction. Now he never been more embarrassed in his life. "Oliver!" Percy hissed.
"Percy, come on! You know you want to. I'm dead sexy."
Percy's faced flamed. "You're drunk, Oliver." Stop this and shut up please please please...
"So what? What? Are you afraid I'm going to snog you again?"
"That's not it-"
"You didn't like it before? I can do better. Let's practice."
Percy stood up so quickly the glasses rattled on the table. "Will you excuse us?" he said with a fake smile, pushing Oliver away from the booth as calmly as he was able.
"Are we going to go shag?" Oliver asked.
"No!" Percy yanked Oliver out of the pub, ears burning, back ramrod straight.
"But- but I'm irresistible," Oliver whined.
"Says who?" Percy muttered.
"Me." Oliver stumbled out of the pub and almost knocked Percy over. Percy grabbed him and tried to keep them both from tumbling to the ground. When he had, Percy found that Oliver's face was about an inch from his own.
"Percy?"
"Mm?"
Oliver was looking Percy straight in the eyes, in that way no one else did. "You really don't want me, do you?" he said plaintively.
Percy felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Oh, Oliver was good. Damn good. Bastard. "Oliver, I- look, we are not going to have this conversation now." Percy stood up and grabbed Oliver's arm to haul him down the street.
Oliver didn't budge. His eyes were wide. "No- you do," he said quietly, with more than just the usual conviction of the plastered. A grin flitted across his face.
Great. The evening just got better and better. "Oliver-"
"You do." Oliver let out a bark of laughter. "You do, you do, you do."
"We're not talking about this now," Percy repeated. He dragged Oliver forward, staring at the sidewalk.
Oliver halted. "Why not?" Oliver now sounded like a five year old.
"Because you're so pissed you can hardly stand up," Percy snapped. "I'm taking you home." He grabbed Oliver's hand and pulled him along.
Oliver grinned. "Are we going there to shag?"
"No." Good God, Oliver had a one track mind. At least he seemed to have forgotten about-
"Why?"
"Because." Percy gritted his teeth and steered Oliver around a corner.
"Because why?"
"Because."
"That's not-"
"Oliver." Percy stopped, placed both his hands on Oliver's shoulders and said, very deliberately, "Let me explain something to you. No one is going to be, er, shagging anyone tonight. I'm going to take you home. You are going to go to bed. Alone." Percy added when Oliver opened his mouth again. "We will talk about this later."
Percy searched Oliver's face for some sign that he understood. Was there even the slightest, tiniest possibility that Oliver was actually going to cooperate so Percy could go home and hex himself out of his misery?
"Shagging," Oliver giggled. "You can't even say it with out turning red."
"Oliver. I'm not even going to respond to that." He turned and resumed steering Oliver toward his flat.
"Shag, Percy. Say it with me: shaaaagging," said Oliver, in a voice that was far too loud. "Also known as sex. Making love, if you want to be girly about it. Sexual intercourse..."
Someone up there must really hate him. That was the only explanation for this.
"...Boffing. The beast with two backs. Getting your oats. Doing the Hippity Dipp...Dippty- I like that one-"
"Oliver !" For the second time that evening, Percy halted on the sidewalk to give Oliver a withering glare (somewhat diminished by the fact that he was indeed blushing).
"There's no reason to get so embarrassed," Oliver said.
Percy crossed his arms. "I'm not embarrassed." He sniffed.
Oliver slung an arm over Percy's shoulder. "It's all just a natural part of life, Perce..."
"Oliver." This was torturous.
"...you see, Perce, when two people love each other very much..."
Percy shrugged off the dangerously warm weight of Oliver's arm. "Oliver, I already had the facts of life talk ages ago." Percy could feel the flush creeping up his face.
Oliver talked louder "...and if you don't have a partner, you know, you can always-"
"Oliver!" Percy hissed.
"See? Uptight."
Percy's hands clenched. "Look I didn't want to have to do this," he said importantly, reaching for his wand. "But if I don't, I think I'm going to murder you before we reach your flat."
Oliver looked worried. "Perce?"
"Sobrietus," said Percy, neatly flicking his wrist.
Oliver's eyes snapped into clarity just as his mind did.
He lurched forward with a surprised grunt. Having all the alcohol instantly removed from one's system tended to throw a person's balance.
"Careful." Percy guided him to sit down on a nearby bench.
Oliver plunked down and dropped his head to his hands. "Ow. What'd you do that for?" Oliver groaned.
There was a pause. "It was the only way I could think of to get you to shut up." Percy voice had turned hollow.
Oliver sat on the bench and didn't say anything. The events of the evening were returning painfully clear to his head.
Sure, he'd made a royal ass of himself- what else was new? - but that wasn't the important part. Oh no.
Some things sound like great ideas when you're drunk and turn out to be not-so-great in the light of day. (That time Oliver had been convinced to do a strip tease for the customers at Begley's Pub, to name one.)
But even though it had hit him while smashed, Oliver knew that it was true. He knew deep down at the very bottom of everything that he'd been right all along: Percy did want him.
Percy wanted him. He'd turned the thought over in his head. Again. And again, until it picked up speed and went spinning and crashing around in his head like a joyfully out-of-control broom.
Percy wanted him. (Of course he did. Had there ever been any doubt?)
Oliver could feel a dopey grin spreading back over his face. Mental victory dance.
"What?" Percy asked.
"Oh, nothing, Perce." Oliver leaned back on the bench and took a deep cleansing breath. "It's just- it's a beautiful night, isn't it?" he said. He couldn't get that stupid smile off his face and he didn't want to.
"I suppose," said Percy. He still sounded weird.
"I’m feeling better. Let’s go.” Oliver stood up. They made an odd pair walking down the street. Percy walked with awkward yet quick steps, as though he couldn’t get back to Oliver’s flat soon enough. Oliver, on the other hand, was practically bouncing along.
Percy wanted him. Ha!
He would have to do something about this. Soon. Very very soon. But how to go about it? Mentally Oliver stroked his chin. Oliver stole a sly sidelong glance at Percy, who seemed very serious for some reason.
An operation of this sort required finesse and strategy…
He could wait until they got back up to his flat and snog Percy.
Huh. Oliver liked that idea.
Then again, maybe he only needed to wait until they got to the steps of his building. You know, to get it over with as soon as possible. Efficiency: it was a good thing, or something like that.
Then again, maybe he only needed to wait until they got on his street.
Or to that corner right up there.
Or hell, right now. Oliver really liked that idea.
“Oliver?”
Percy voice came abruptly, just as Oliver was ready to spring into action. Oliver tripped over himself and almost ate the pavement.
He righted his steps sheepishly. “The sidewalk was crooked.” Oliver said. The light from a streetlamp was doing strange things to Percy’s hair. “Er…What is it?”
Percy’s jaw and shoulders set with purpose. His eyes squarely met Oliver’s. Fine. Fine. He was going to say this. He was sick and tired of being afraid to, anyway.
“There is something we need to address,” Percy said.
“Address? Okay then,” Oliver replied, smiling at something.
“About what you said before…”
“The shagging?” Oliver offered. He rocked back and forth on his heels.
Percy coughed. “No. About what you said about me,” Percy prompted. Please, Oliver, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about.
“You being uptight?” Oliver blinked, looking completely clueless.
Percy was beginning to get frustrated. “No,” he said. “About me wanting you.”
“What about it?” Oliver asked with a blithe smile.
Percy shot Oliver an “I’ll get you for this later” look and soldiered on. “You weren’t wrong. About me.”
“Really?” Oliver asked, obviously trying to look serious. He failed.
Percy glared again and took a deep breath. “I know it might not have seemed like it, after what happened back in my flat earlier this week- I apologize for that, by the by- but I’m not entirely sure that you feel the same way- I know what you said earlier, but you were rather drunk and all, and even though in vino veritas and what have you, you never really know, do you?” Percy laughed weakly.
“In vino veritas?” Oliver asked.
Percy was clearly determined to rattle on. “But even if you don’t, it’s only proper that-”
“In vino veritas, Perce?”
Percy shut his mouth with an angry huff. “It’s Latin,” he ground out. “It can be translated as ‘There is truth in wine.’”
“I can’t believe you used Latin in a normal conversation.”
“There’s nothing wrong with knowing Latin,” said Percy, offended. “Most modern spell incantations derive from Latin. You know I took a seminar on the history of linguistics and spellwork my last year at school. It was-” Percy stopped and shook his head, glaring at Oliver. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me, Oliver. As I was saying-”
“You’re the only person I know who would do that.” Oliver said fondly. “Right. Sorry,” he added, when Percy angrily cleared his throat.
Percy took another nervous breath “There’s more, Oliver. You see, for me, at any rate, there’s more to this whole thing, whatever it is, than just the…physical aspect of- “
“Latin.” Oliver chuckled.
Percy was really getting annoyed now. “Anyway-”
“It’s just funny.” Oliver tried to stifle a grin again.
“I’m sure it is,” Percy snapped. “Anyway,” Percy continued firmly, staring at his feet, “you also have the right to know that I…my feelings are such- God, this sounded so much better in my head-”
“Hee.”
Percy’s head whipped up angrily. “Do you mind?? I’m trying to tell you that I love you if you would just shut up for five seconds you irritating prat!!” he yelled, loudly.
They stared at each other in the thick silence of the evening. At least he finally shut up, thought Percy weakly. Oliver kept staring at him. It was out there. And Oliver wasn’t. Saying. Anything.
Whoever had claimed that the truth would set you free was horribly, damnably wrong. Percy pressed his lips together. He could not recall a time when he’d felt more exposed, more naked, than under the silence of Oliver’s shocked, blinking gaze. And the ridiculous part of the whole thing was that even though he wanted to bid Oliver good night and save a little bit of his dignity, there was something else he wanted more. Something he’d wanted for a long time.
On another note, why wasn’t Oliver saying anything?!
“There you have it then. Can’t take it back now, can I?” Percy muttered. “And you needn’t feel obligated to requite my feelings or anything. Just thought you should know. But if you don’t…of course, I understand.”
He risked a glance at Oliver, whose mouth was open and whose damn hair was trying (and failing) to flop over his forehead. For the first time in his life, Percy thought he understood the meaning of the phrase ‘nothing to lose’. “But before I go…would you mind…oh, hang it.”
Percy darted forward and kissed Oliver. Quickly, before Percy had the chance to really see what he’d been missing. The brief taste was bad enough, though.
He’d barely pulled back more than a few centimeters when Oliver finally spoke.
“Percy.” Oliver’s voice came out low; he noted with satisfaction the tiny hitch in Percy’s shoulders. Excellent.
Percy’s eyes were still locked on Oliver’s as he took a step back. “Hmm?”
“Come here.” Oliver took a step forward.
Percy stepped back, until he bumped up against a streetlamp, one of the old-fashioned glass kind filled with lightning bugs. The light did the strangest things to Percy’s hair. Percy stopped backing up and watched him.
Oliver moved forward again, slowly, taking in every detail of Percy’s freckles, and his lower lip and his eyes, which closed under the close, intense scrutiny.
The kiss was nothing special to begin with. Percy barely moved at all; his arms flailed uselessly for a moment before his fists clenched halfway to his sides. Oliver could feel Percy’s shoulders hunch, trembling from the effort of holding himself back.
Oliver really had no choice but slip into Percy’s robes and run his hands down Percy’s sensitive hips at the same moment he suckled Percy’s lower lip.
Oliver could feel the instant Percy finally let go, heralded by a soft helpless moan that Oliver could almost taste. And when Percy opened that mouth of his, Oliver barely had time for the fleeting thought of “Attaboy, Perce. Knew you had it in you” before Percy moved and Oliver somehow found himself with his back against the streetlamp. Oliver’s eyes flickered open and shut in surprise. And then Percy’s hands were running into his hair and Percy’s tongue-
Where. The hell. Had Percy learned to do that?
His lungs burned when Percy finally pulled off and tucked his head next to Oliver’s with a deep, shuddering breath. Oliver gaped, and sagged against the streetlamp, his arms around Percy’s waist. He felt Percy breathe.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Perce,” he managed.
Percy just shrugged in his arms, as if snogging people senseless was something he did everyday. It was quiet.
“Hey, Perce.”
Percy slowly pulled his head back. Holy hell. The emotion leaking all over his face…no one had ever ever looked at him like that. “Me too,” Oliver said. It was all he could get out.
Percy stared. Dammit, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.
Percy seemed to understand, though, because a second later they were back to making out against the streetlamp.
Oliver’s brain skittered to a stop at that point, thanks to Percy’s damn tongue. When they stopped, it was all Oliver could do to lean weakly against the streetlamp. It was going to take a while to get used to this new, improved, “now with free snogging!” version of Percy.
Oliver was still blinking in silence as Percy straightened his robes with the appearance of calm, though there was just light enough to see that he was blushing.
Percy looked at Oliver and didn’t say anything for a bit. “‘Me too?’” Percy made a face. He shook his head, tucked in a smile, and took a step down the street.
Bastard.
What the hell had just happened?
“Hey!” Oliver pushed himself off the streetlamp and jogged after him. “Yours wasn’t much better.” Oliver said when he’d caught up.
Percy snorted. “Yes it was.”
Oliver snorted back. “Wasn’t.”
“Yes. It was.” Percy finally slowed to a stop in front of Oliver’s building.
“I hate to break it to you, Perce, but just because yours had Latin in it only means you’re a dork.” Oliver spelled the door and held it open for Percy.
Percy went through. “It was important. And besides, you kept interrupting me!” Percy exclaimed, climbing the steps.
“I was happy! I couldn’t help it!” Oliver followed him. He took the stairs two at a time.
“Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem*,” Percy said in a tone of fond exasperation.
“What did you say?” Oliver asked the back of Percy’s head.
Percy put a foot on the last stair and pivoted around to face Oliver. He graced Oliver with that smirking I-know-something-you-don’t-know look. “Nothing.”
“I’ll bet,” Oliver said, climbing the last of the steps with a suspicious glare. Percy leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and smirked, and then they both stood still and just mooned at each other like a pair of idiots.
Oliver put a hand against the door to his flat.
“So,” said Percy, casually staring at the floor. “Is your flatmate in?”
Oliver reached for his wand to alohamora the door. “He might not be. Why? Oh.”
Ha, Oliver thought.
*Percy’s Latin phrase actually means "In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags."
A/N: Well that’s it, guys. There should be a short epilogue on its way soon (I hope). After all, Percy and Oliver deserve to get some revenge on Fred and George…
Don’t they? ;)
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Date: 2004-09-23 05:14 pm (UTC)I'm pleased you like the manifesto, though it needs to be polished, I think. (Any suggestions you have, btw, I'd be happy to have.) Yeah, the not knowing that JKR will fix Percy and Sirius is really what sucks right now. (I don't want to even go into how fucking bitter I still am about Sirius.)
Hee. So glad you liked it! :)
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Date: 2004-09-23 08:36 pm (UTC)Unfortunately, I can't think of any suggestions, because I suck at putting things into words like that and you did a great job, so I was just sitting there nodding and going "Mmhmm. See, I told you!"
Fifth book? There's a fifth book? Funny, I thought that little wizard boy series ended at book four. How unfortunate there weren't any others published after that. Guess I'll just have to keep writing in my happy little world over here where there's no totally stupid killing off/character assassination of really cool characters...
I want my "Still Bitter" button, dammit.